A New Brotherhood
by frostburnt
Summary: After Alkalai Lake, Bobby and John thought they knew that their lives would go on seperately. When they find out something is missing, they end up facing their new challenges. Together.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** A New Brotherhood: The Rules of Passion  
**Fandom:** X-Men Movieverse  
**Authors:** Dilly R  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Summary:** Bobby used to think that Xavier's was the best place for him, but things change.  
**Notes:** This is a collaboration between FFN users dilly r and mysticalsoul. 

* * *

_My passions were all gathered together like fingers that made a fist. Drive is considered aggression today; I knew it then as purpose. - Bette Davis_

* * *

"There never tell us anything," Jubilee said as she slouched onto the couch. "And all of my reliable sources are failing me." 

Bobby fingered through the papers in his folder and pulled out a physics assignment. "You're just nosy, Jubes." 

"Yeah, and?" 

Marie was at the foosball table spinning around the blue goalie. "Aren't you curious, Bobby?" 

"Last time we had Marie to tell us about Logan," Jubilee said. "But this guy didn't bring a friend." 

Marie flipped the goalie around loudly, then went over to the couch to sit down by Bobby. 

"I'm not as curious as you two are," Bobby said. "I need to bring up my grades so I don't have to ace the final." 

Jubilee batted her hand. "Pfft, grades. You're just not interested because you don't appreciate his hot factor." 

Bobby glanced at Marie, then opened his Physics book. "I guess I'm not the person to complain at, then." 

"You're such a jerk sometimes, Bobby," Jubilee said cheerfully. 

"Is this a study group or are we just going to gossip?" he asked. 

Jubilee pushed herself out of the armchair to her feet. "I'm getting snacks first. Can't study formulas on an empty stomach. Ancient truth, that." 

Bobby watched her go, then down at the text book. He could feel Marie squirming on the couch cushion next to him. "Something wrong?" he asked, not looking up. 

He felt her shrug next to him. "I don't know what use Physics is to me." 

"Xavier wants us well-rounded." He did look up this time, despite himself. "But that's not what's bothering you." 

"You worry too much." She moved closer to him, so that their legs were touching, and tugged at his textbook. "Share books with me. I left mine in my room and I don't want to go get it." 

None of it seemed that monumental at the time. Nothing big really does. 

A man had arrived at the door a few weeks before that study session. He was apparently friends with Ororo. Bobby could tell right away that they were old friends and close, but not lovers. Jubilee had immediately come to that conclusion, but Bobby knew that wasn't the case. They were too comfortable together. There was too little animosity there. No passion, just closeness. Bobby had tried to explain it and Marie had just given him a look and said, "So, your theory is that they like each other too much to be romantic?" Then, she and Jubilee laughed. Marie is pretty when she laughs, so he didn't get mad. 

The topic of just about every conversation after that had been the mysterious stranger. Bobby had gotten tired of it right off. Something about the guy made his stomach tighten. 

His name was Remy-- Remy with something French-sounding after it. He had a grating accent. Jubilee said it was hot and Marie didn't argue, but it just annoyed Bobby. His mutation had given him red and black eyes, and his natural bad taste gave him tattoos down his arms and a brown leather duster which he wore in any weather. That was all Bobby knew about him up to the point he walked in on their study group. 

Jubilee came back with a bag of chips and three sodas, and they'd just started getting into nuclear fission when Remy came into the game room and looked around, as though trying to find someone. Jubilee spun to look at him so fast that she nearly flipped backward out of her recliner. Marie simply looked up silently and exchanged looks with Jubilee. 

He lingered by the entrance for a few moments, watching. Bobby tried to go on with the studying, but Remy approached them. 

"Sorry to bother you three," he said in that uneven accent. 

"Oh, it's totally no bother," Jubilee said cheerfully. 

Remy smiled. Bobby looked at Marie. She was still watching Remy, expressionless. "'Ave any of you three seen the lovely Miss Munroe about?" 

"She's usually in her classroom," Bobby answered flatly with his eyes on his textbook. "She tutors this time of day." 

"Oh, well. Wouldn't want to interrupt that, would I?" Remy smiled; it wasn't a normal smile. It was Kind of crooked and without any of the cheer a normal smile would convey. 

Jubilee perked up. "There's tons of stuff to do in here while you wait." 

"We are studying, Jubilee." Bobby lifted up the textbook slightly to emphasize his point. 

"It's about time for a break anyway," Jubilee said. "Do you like air hockey Mr... Remy?" 

Remy snorted. "I do at that. But no mister, please. Jus' Remy." 

"So, you're the mystery man," Jubilee said, grinning. 

Remy looked shocked. "Mystery? Mais non, Remy's no mystery." 

"Prove it, then," said Marie. "Tell us about yourself." She pushed the half of the textbook on her lap onto Bobby's. 

"Nothing to say about Remy, cher, that you can't tell just by looking at him. Except maybe why a classy lady like Miss Munroe is friends with him. But that her story, not mine." 

"Why are you here?" Bobby asked. 

"Ah. Remy been having troubles with his power. Police don't like it when you blow things up, but sometimes Remy touch things, they just blow up like they got their own mind to." 

Jubilee perked up. "Hey, that happens to me too. Well, with electronics. I kind of killed an X-Box so I'm not allowed to play video games until I figure out how to, well, not blow them up." 

Remy barked a laugh. "That's how it be, that's how it be. But, that professor, he's a good guy. He can get in Remy's brain and keep him from blowing up things he don't want to." 

"How long are you staying?" Marie asked. 

"Not sure yet." Remy leaned toward her slightly, ignoring Bobby between them. "It's not that easy to get rid of Remy." 

Marie looked down at her hands, balled up in her lap. "That's not what I..." 

"Are you bothering the students, Remy?" Ororo walked into the room, carrying a folder of papers under her arm and smiling. 

"Guilty as charged," Remy said, standing. "Some of your students aren't so little as the other ones." Remy was looking at Marie. Bobby clenched his jaw. 

Ororo's eyes darted to Bobby and Marie, then back to Remy. Her expression didn't falter. "We have all ages here. Now, leave these three to study, we have much to talk about." 

"How tragic. It was wonderful meeting you." Remy took Jubilee's hand and kissed it. Then, he took Marie's to do the same. He ran his thumb along the fabric of her glove curiously, then kissed it. He extended his hand for Bobby to shake it. It took a great deal of Bobby's willpower not to give the guy frostbite. As it was, Remy rubbed his hands together to warm them as he walked away with Ororo. 

"Wow," said Jubilee once they were gone. 

Marie laughed quietly, looking down at her hands "He certainly has a personality." 

"I wasn't looking at his personality." Jubilee grinned diabolically. 

Bobby picked up his book and folder. "If we're not interested in studying here, I'm going to do it in my room." He stood up and left. Marie followed him and grabbed his arm to stop him. 

"What's wrong with you?" 

"Oh, I don't know," Bobby pulled his arm free. "You could at least flirt with him when I'm _not_ there to see it." 

Marie rolled her eyes. "You always do this. Why are you so possessive? It drives me crazy." 

"I'm so possessive because I love you and you don't love me." 

Marie stared at him, her mouth slightly open as if she were going to say something, but she remained silent. Bobby turned around and went to his room. 

* * *

Something was strange about living in an empty room. The only time Bobby had ever had an entire bedroom to himself was a few years after his family had moved to the bigger house. Then, he'd come to Xavier's and shared his room with John. Xavier had never gotten around to assigning him a new roommate, and Piotr had moved out a while back. Family issues. Bobby wouldn't have minded someone around, even if it were John with his snide comments. It'd be someone to listen to him. He didn't really have that now. All of his friends were really Marie's friends. He was sure that he couldn't talk to them without something getting back to Marie. And that was how it should be, really. 

Bobby sat up studying late into the night until his back was sore and he laid down to study. He tried a couple of times to rest his head and sleep, but an image of Remy kissing Marie's hand would pop into his head again and he'd be wide-awake. 

He'd finally begun to drift off when his cell phone rang. He opened his eyes and looked at it glowing on the bedside table. Xavier had given them to the students for safety, but Bobby never used his. He couldn't even remember anyone not in the school who knew his number. 

He turned it on. "Hello?" 

The line was quiet, but he could hear breathing. 

Bobby sighed. "It is way too late for a prank call, guy." He pulled it away from his ear to turn off, but then he heard a voice. 

"Bobby, wait." 

He paused and put the phone back to his ear. "Is that you, Ronny?" 

Silence, except for a faint staticky sound. 

"Ronny, what are you doing?" Bobby's heart was beating harder, but he wasn't sure why. 

Ronny sniffed into the phone, and then there was the hush of a breath against the receiver. "I think I'm in trouble." 

Bobby sat up. "Tell me what's going on. Do Mom and Dad know you're calling?" 

"No. They don't know shit. They never do." There was a clattering sound somewhere in the background. "I think I'm one of you people. They'll kill me. They'll really kill me.." 

"What? They? What are you talking about?" 

"Fuck, Bobby. I'm a fucking... I'm a fucking mutant. That guy you brought over said it's Dad's fault. It's no wonder." 

Bobby was quiet for a moment. When he did speak, the words came out slowly. "Mom and Dad aren't going to kill you over this. It's not as bad as you think. You can come out to Xavi--" 

"Not Mom and Dad," Ronny interrupted. "There are these people from a chat room and I met them. They're anti-mutant, and they find mutants and, like, beat them up and stuff. If they find out I'm one, they'll think I'm spying or something. They always talk about that--they're real paranoid--and say if they find out one of us is one of them, they'll kill us." 

"What are you doing meeting people from online? Especially people like that? What were you _thinking_?" 

"Yeah, because I called up for a lecture." 

"Too bad," Bobby said, heat rising in his face. "Too bad, Ronny, because you're getting one. After what you did, you're lucky I didn't hang up the phone when you called." 

"So, you don't care if they kill me." 

"I care," Bobby spat. Then, he took a deep breath to calm himself. "I care," he repeated. "I can tell Xavier. He'll know what to do about this." 

"No." 

"Ronny." 

"I mean it. No. Just you. If Xavier shows up, he might tell Mom and Dad and it might get back to these guys. I'm serious. They'll kill me if they find out. They're dangerous, man. And you can't let anyone know you're there. If you're going to come, come by tomorrow night at like, three in the morning when Mom and Dad are asleep. I'll be waiting by the backdoor." There was a voice in the background. "Just a sec, Mom," Ronny shouted. "Look, Bobby, I have to go. If you're coming, tomorrow at three in the morning, all right?" 

"O--" The phone line clicked off. Bobby looked at his cell phone for a few moments, then turned it off. 

He closed his eyes to think for a moment. He had to remind himself that Ronny was young and his opinions weren't his own yet. Dad had taught them from the very beginning to hate mutants. He didn't say it directly, of course. He would just talk about how the mutants were a danger to everyone else. The way they'd take everyone's jobs, how they could hurt people, how they couldn't be trusted. Hell, Bobby had hated mutants before he found out that he was one... and then for a while longer after that. 

Sometimes, Bobby still called mutants "them". The habits his father had taught them were hard to break. 

If Bobby couldn't sleep before, he certainly couldn't sleep after that phone call. He emptied his book bag and began rolling up clothes for the next day. He'd been saving up the allowance Xavier gave each of them and he had enough for the train ride, but not for a cab to the station. He'd have to leave early to walk there. 

Morning seemed to come quickly. He'd barely packed the bare minimum of what he needed. Luckily, it was Friday and Friday was mostly physical education, so he didn't need many books in his backpack. He had to run to the weight room to get there on time. The older kids did stretches, cardio, and weights to get ready for the Danger Room training later in the day. Marie was already on the treadmill when he got there. He caught her eyes for a moment, then looked away to do his stretches. 

They went through the routines of exercises, Bobby just missing Marie at every machine. They were put in separate teams when they get to the Danger Room. Bobby suspected that it had to do with Jubilee being the captain of Team B that Friday. The Danger Room exercises they took part in were very low level. Logan and Scott, who took turns overseeing the activities, were not allowed to put the danger level over three. The first two exercises, the teams took turns, but for the last, they worked against each other. They all wore specially made suits that would protect each other from their powers, but it tallied points. It was fun, like a more complex version of paintball, but they were assured that it was also very important in case they wanted to join the X-Men when they came of age. They were down to five students after a few minutes of team A vs. team B exercise. Bobby, Kitty, and Theresa were left standing on team A, while Marie and Jubilee survived on team B. Team B had the high ground, but team A had cover. Bobby and Theresa would pop out of their cover to do some damage with Bobby's ice and Theresa's screaming while Kitty would stay phased out until she got a chance, then phase in to hit one of the two girls with the "weapon". It was really just a rod that, when it came in contact with the suit, would act as a power and subtract points. 

Kitty phased in to get Marie, but this time Marie was ready for her. She grabbed Kitty by the wrist and, before Kitty could escape, the points on her suit went down to zero. Marie headed toward where Bobby and Theresa had taken cover. With Kitty's power, in theory, she was phased out and her suit took no damage. She got Theresa first, then she turned on Bobby. Bobby put up his hand and put a shield of ice in font of him to block her off. 

"Theresa," Marie said. "I have your power. Scream." 

Theresa frowned, but she had no choice. She used her power and the mind numbing sound shattered Bobby's ice. She placed her hand on his chest, and his points went down to zero. 

"Nicely done," Scott said over the intercom system. "That's all for today. Go have lunch." 

Bobby looked into Marie's eyes for the first time since they'd parted the day before. She held his gaze for a moment, then she turned away and headed to the girl's locker room to change out of her suit. 

"Wait," Bobby said, as she neared the door. She didn't stop. He jogged after her. "I just need to tell you something." 

She stopped walking, but didn't turn toward him. "What?" 

"I have to go home for a little while. I don't know how long it'll take." 

Marie turned her head so that he could see her in profile. "Home? Why are you going there? I thought..." 

"I thought too, but something came up." 

"When are you leaving?" 

Bobby took a deep breath. "After my last class." 

Marie was quiet. Jubilee passed by on her way out of the locker room and touched Marie's shoulder, asking if she was all right. Marie nodded and Jubilee left them alone. 

"Do you really think that..." Marie paused. "Do you really believe what you said?" 

Bobby pressed his lips together for a moment. "I was just upset." 

"Okay." Marie went into the locker room. Bobby watched the door close. 

* * *

Bobby was asleep before the train even left the station. His dreams were riddled with Ronny, the faceless enemy, and the constant chattering of the man on his cell phone sitting across from him. It wasn't normal sleep, because he was aware of what was going on around him and he raised his head up for a moment whenever they made a stop to make sure they haven't gotten to Boston yet. When his stop finally came, he didn't feel able to move for a moment. He sat there lethargically with his backpack watching other people head for the doors. Maybe he shouldn't show up, he thought. Maybe this is some kind of trap Ronny's setting. 

Maybe it's not. 

So, Bobby got to his feet and hurried toward the crowd of people, even at this hour, milling around the doors. The hallways were surreal. He wasn't sure if it was the lighting or his lack of sleep. Possibly both. He found he exit and was suddenly out by the street. There was someone shouting, and it was a moment before he realized the man was shouting at him. A cabbie looking for a fare. Bobby dug in his pocket and checked the money he has left before sliding into the backseat. He should be able to make it home on what he had. Just barely. Once Bobby told the guy where to, he started to chat about his daughter and her husband. Bobby didn't quite catch all of it, but he nodded, watching the cabby's face in the rearview, half obscured by darkness. 

He got off about a block from his house, noticing that the meter was getting close to his limit, and walked the rest of the way. Seeing the house was strange. There was still a huge spot in the front yard where the grass wouldn't grow from being burnt so badly, and the top line of the bushes was uneven. Bobby's stomach hurt. He went around the back of the house to the sliding glass door. He could see Ronny's shadow, waiting just outside the door. 

"You actually showed up," Ronny said. 

"What did you expect?" 

Ronny shrugged. 

"So?" 

Ronny looked back and forth, as if expecting someone to be watching them. "Come up to my room. It's probably safer up there." 

Bobby followed after his little brother. It was a strange feeling to be sneaking into his own house. There had always been something intimidating about it at night. It felt something like walking through a school's hallway on the weekend. Ronny's room was basically as he'd remembered it, pretty much circulating around his computer. He had a new computer since the last time Bobby had been up there though. It was a nice one. The posters were still up everywhere, proclaiming 'Mutants Suck!' with a strange swamp creature crawling toward the viewer unlike any mutant Bobby had ever come across. One of them had a razor slash through it now, though, all the way through to the wall. 

Ronny went directly to his computer and clicked on a link in his favorites. A site loaded. It was simple enough; plain red, blue, and cream table layout with big white letters. Friends of Humanity. Bobby grimaced. 

"This is them," Ronny said. "I mean, I don't know the main guy, but there are all kinds of offshoots. The one around here is called Allies. Uh. There's not a website, but there's an AIM chat that is always up. The name changes sometime. If you're a member, you get the new one in your email." 

Bobby had to bite his lip to keep himself from lecturing again. Ronny was a smart kid, somewhere deep down, but sometimes he really didn't show it. He opened up AIM and typed in the name of the chat: Alliance43625263Chat. The window opened up and screen names filled up the side window. 

"The guy in charge is this one," Ronny said, pointing to the screen name MlltntMtntH8r. Bobby raised an eyebrow. "He's the one who keeps dropping hints he knows something." Ronny fielded a few people in the chat who were greeting him. 

"RonnyDark?" 

"Shut up, it's a nickname." 

"Brilliant," Bobby said flatly. "So, they know your real name." 

The rat-a-tat of Ronny's typing paused for a moment, then he hit enter and turned to Bobby. "Will you stop it? I know I made a mistake." 

"_A_ mistake?" 

"I know how it works." Ronny's face has gone pale with anger. "I know that if you're a mutant than it's pretty likely I'm going to be one too because we got the same parents. Thing is, everyone else knows that too. That's why they're looking at me now when they weren't before. Not only is my brother a mutie, but he brings his mutie friends around to attack the police. I thought I could make it seem like these crazy mutants just attacked us, okay, but your picture was all over the fucking newspapers." 

Bobby pressed his lips together. He fixed his eyes on the slashed poster above Ronny's bed. "You've been showing signs?" 

"Not too many, but. Man, if I slip, I'm dead. If I try to drop out of the Allies now, I'm dead, because they'll know. I've convinced them, I think, that I'm not... one of you guys. But I keep slipping other places. Like around Mom and Dad. I think they're starting to suspect." 

"What are they exactly? The signs." 

Ronny turned around in his chair, away from the computer. He held his hand out in front of him, the palm toward his face. It took a moment of concentration, but soon, Bobby saw it. Water began to slide down from the tips of his fingers. Not much of it, just little droplets. Ronny made a fist. "I can't do too much or I get thirsty. The fantastic Dehydration Boy." He turned back around to face his computer and wiped his hand off before going back to typing. 

Bobby was quiet for a moment, watching the back of his brother's head. He sighed. "So, what do you need me to do?" 

"I don't know," Ronny said. "Just figure something out. I need to get out of this." His voice was without emotion, but Bobby knew his brother well enough to understand that there was desperation in there. 

"Let's think about this." Bobby took a deep breath and sat at the foot of Ronny's bed. "You're sure you don't want Xavier's help. 

"I'm sure." 

Bobby nodded. "All right. Then, the goal is to get out of this little gang or whatever and them not to know you're a mutant, yeah?" 

"Yeah." 

"Right." Bobby laid back, thinking. "And they know I'm a mutant." 

"Yeah." 

"Could you get off the computer for a minute to talk about this?" 

Ronny let out a breath, but he soon closed the chat window and turned around to face Bobby. 

"Do you know anyone else who's gotten out?" 

"A few people." 

Bobby nodded. "All right. How did they do it?" 

"Most of them just moved. A couple of them, their parents found out and didn't want them messing around with that." 

"Couldn't you tell them Mom and Dad found out?" 

"Mom and Dad already know." 

Bobby stared at him. "They know you're part of this thing and they haven't made you get out?" 

Ronny snorted and shook his head. "They've taken me to a couple meetings." 

It was like the air was sucked out of the room. Bobby wasn't sure he could breathe for a moment. Yeah, he knew his parents weren't the most pro-mutant people in the world, but this... it was ridiculous. 

"Okay," Bobby said slowly, pushing his emotions away. There wasn't time to deal with those just that moment. "So we're going to have to be a little more creative, since I don't think Mom and Dad are moving out of this place any time soon." He paused. "Do you have a meeting coming up sometime?" 

"Yeah, tomorrow. That's why I called." 

Bobby sat up. "All right, so how about this? I pretend to come across you outside of the meeting and we get into an argument, right? You could tell your little buddies that I found out about it and... I have mind-reading powers, so you're worried that I'd do something to them sometime if you know where meetings and stuff are... so you got to drop out?" 

Ronny nodded thoughtfully. "Okay, okay. That could work. And they know you've got those creepy friends, so they might be freaked out enough that they'd want to keep you away, right? But you show up by a meeting like that... man, these people are dangerous." 

"Right... You think you could find a place to hang out afterwards with a few of them? Like, just a couple of the meeker ones could come to lunch or something with you, and I'll show up there." 

"We go to that pizza place. The one that we used to go to? I never remember the name." 

"Yeah, I know the one." 

Ronny stood up. "So, cool. I'm going to bed." 

"Oh," Bobby got up, getting out of the way so Ronny could get in his bed. "Uh. And I'm supposed to sleep where?" 

"Oh yeah." Ronny slid open the door to his walk in closet. An old blanket and pillow were set up on the floor. 

Bobby raised an eyebrow. "I'm going to sleep in your closet?" 

"It's the only way to make sure Mom and Dad don't see you before they go to work." 

Bobby let out a world weary sigh and rubbed his forehead. "Right now, I could sleep just about anywhere." He stepped into the closet uncertainly and watched Ronny slide the door shut behind him. 

* * *

Bobby had been to the restaurant a thousand times before. The only real differences he could see were an extended salad bar and a replaced window, which had been cracked as long as Bobby could remember. He thought, at first, that the chairs were smaller than they used to be, but on further inspection, he realized they were the same ones. 

Nothing really big has changed. It's just that Bobby used to belong there, and he didn't anymore. 

He ate a slice of greasy pizza and washed it down with a soda while he waited for Ronny and his friends. He loved the stuff when he was little, but he had to pat it down with a napkin to make it palatable now. 

"I've been eating at the school too long," he muttered to himself, suddenly longing for the cheeseless chicken pizzas that Mr. Summers had become slightly famous for a few summers back. Ms. Grey used to make them with him, so he hadn't made one in a while. The pepperoni and mozzarella weren't settling too well with all of the eyes on him. There were a couple people around who he recognized vaguely from school or from the store. They must all know about what happened. 

Bobby felt a strong wave of relief when Ronny appeared with his friends. He was last among them. A girl was practically dragging him in. Bobby furrowed his brow and left at tip at the table before approaching them. Ronny's eyes widened when he saw him coming, and he began shaking his head furiously. 

Bobby wasn't about to stop now. "Ronny." Ronny ignored him, but the group with him all looked at Bobby. The girl who had been dragging Ronny went slack jawed. She must recognize him. "RONNY," Bobby said again, and he grabbed his little brother's arm. 

Ronny tired to jerk away, but Bobby kept his grip tight. "Go away!" 

One of the boys with him stepped toward them. "Hey, you better leave Ronny alone or--" 

"This is a family concern," Bobby said calmly. "Ronny, I need to speak with you." 

"Okay. Okay, just let go of my arm." Bobby let him go, and Ronny straightened out his shirt. The girl with him looked at him. Ronny nodded at her reassuringly and let Bobby off to the side. 

"That better have been an act, Ronny," Bobby whispered once they were out of hearing range of Ronny's friends. 

"Look, I changed my mind, okay? I was overreacting before." 

"You said they'd kill you if they found out." 

Ronny shrugged. "I said I was overreacting. Just... never mind, okay? Sorry I dragged you out here." 

"You're so--" Bobby lowered his voice. "You're _sorry_? Ronny. You do not need to be hanging out with people like that." 

"You don't even know who they are." 

"I know well enough." 

Ronny crossed his arms over his chest. "Just forget about it. And get back to _school_ or I'll call the cops. I know you got away with attacking them and everything, but the ones around here wouldn't mind, you know, framing you for something if they had to." 

"I can't believe you." Bobby's hands had balled into fists. He wasn't entirely sure how he avoided hitting Ronny, but he did. "Don't bother calling me again, you stupid brat." 

He didn't wait for Ronny to reply. He left the restaurant and walked. There was no destination in mind, he just needed to walk some of the pent up energy off. He was three blocks before he stopped at a payphone and called the mansion up collect, to ask for a ride home. 

* * *

Bobby unpacked his things. He hadn't taken much, but as soon as Mr. Summers had gotten him back to the mansion, Bobby had fallen asleep on his bed and was just getting around to unpacking at three in the afternoon. He could hear the other students getting back to their rooms after a day of classes. He felt guilty for having missed and causing Mr. Summers to cancel a couple classes, but he'd already spoken to Mr. Summers on the ride back, and he'd been surprisingly understanding. Family seemed to be important to him. 

Once he'd gotten his backpack empty of everything but school supplies, he dumped it out on John's abandoned bed and grabbed his history book to do his reading for the night. He'd gotten a paragraph in when there was a knock at his door. She didn't wait for him to respond to her knock; Marie came right in and closed the door behind her. 

Bobby didn't look up from his book. "Yeah?" 

"I heard you're back." 

"I am." 

Marie sat at the foot of John's bed. "So, you went home." 

"I told you I was going." 

"Didn't go well, did it?" 

"Didn't expect it to." Bobby glanced at her over his book, then back down to the same paragraph he had read through three times now, and he still couldn't process it. 

"Let me guess." She slurred the last word into about three syllables. The emergence of her accent was a sure sign of irritation. "You don't wan' talk about it." 

Bobby sighed and set his book aside. Reading wasn't doing any good at this point anyway. "Ronny's part of a militant anti-mutant group. Which, honestly, isn't surprising. But he's found out he's a mutant, and he's afraid they're going to kill him. He wanted me to give him a way out, so we came up with one. Then, he changed his mind, and I came back home." 

"You what now? You just left? Does the professor know about this?" 

"I haven't directly talked to him about it yet, if that's what you're asking." 

Marie leaned back on the heels of her hands. "I assume you're _going_ to, though." 

"I don't know," Bobby said with a shrug. "Ronny asked me not to, but--" 

"So you're going to just let these people kill him?" 

Bobby frowned. "That's not what I said. You interrupted me. I was going to say that since he changed the terms since I said I wouldn't tell Xavier, yes, I'm going to talk to Xavier." 

"You don't gotta..." She sighed. "Sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you like that. I know you're looking out for him. Don't know _why_ exactly, after he treated you like that. You're a nice guy for dropping everything for him. You know I just start lecturing when I'm upset, doesn't matter who I'm actually upset at. I didn't mean nothing." 

"I know. I'm not mad." 

Marie was quiet for a moment, then she moved to Bobby's bed and rested her head on his chest. "I missed you today." 

"I wasn't gone all that long." He brushed some hair away from her cheek, habitually careful not to touch the skin. 

"Yeah, but." She propped her head up a little so she could see past his chin. "I'm just used to you always being around, you know? Guess we're spoiled, seeing as we've always lived together as long as we've been going out." 

Bobby smiled a little. "I don't mind being spoiled." 

Marie took his cue and smiled back at him. "Neither do I." She shifted her position until she was on top of him. Bobby drew a breath sharply, then let it out slowly. 

They found ways around Marie's mutation. A thin sheet (cotton-blend, the only kind Marie didn't hate the feeling of) between Marie and Bobby's mouth worked for her, and a condom between Bobby and Marie's mouth worked for him. They stole quick kisses despite themselves. Sometimes Marie would have to push Bobby away when she felt too much of his consciousness seeping into hers. 

Twice that night she had to push Bobby away from her. He held her too close, he was being too careless. After the second time, she pulled away from him completely, sitting with her knees hugged against her chest at the edge of the bed. 

Bobby pushed himself up and put his hand on her still-clothed back. 

"Bobby, what're you doing?" 

He pulled his hand away. "I was just trying to comfort you." 

"No, I mean." She twisted herself around to face him. "I mean why are you kissing me like that? You're holding on way too long. You must be feeling it." 

"I guess I missed you too." He lay back again with his hands behind his head. "Sorry." 

"You don't understand," Marie said quietly. Her voice had an edge to it that Bobby knew meant that she was on the verge of tears. "You don't understand how it feels when you do that." 

Bobby quirked an eyebrow. "When I want to kiss you?" 

"_Yes_," she spat. "You're just reminding me that you want to touch me and you can't." 

"You'd... rather I didn't want to touch you." 

Marie bent over, pushing her fingers up into her hair. "I told you, you don't understand." 

"I'm sorry, Marie." Bobby's eyes were focused on the ceiling. "I've had a rough day. I guess I kind of forget the rules on a rough day." 

"That's my point." Marie stood up. Her eyes were red, but there were no tears. "I'm going to my own room." 

Bobby nodded slowly and listened to her as she left. He turned on his side and looked at the opposite bed. It was empty except for his text books, which made it a few text books fuller than Bobby's bed. 

* * *

Bobby told Xavier about his brother before classes the next morning. It was pretty clear that Xaiver already knew about what Bobby was telling him, but Xaiver nodded thoughtfully as he listened, as though it were the first time he was hearing the information. It made Bobby remember how weird it had been to him at first, living in a house with a telepath. 

"Then, I called here and asked for a ride home," Bobby finished. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before I left, but..." 

Xavier held up a hand. "Understood." 

"So... Can we do something about it? I mean, maybe bring him here or something? I'm really worried about him. The kids he was with didn't seem too rough, but the way Ronny talked about it, it's not just harmless kids he's dealing with." 

"Your concern is understandable and perhaps warranted. I can speak to your brother and his parents about him coming here to study." 

Bobby frowned. "But, for one, they'll never agree to it. And for two, if you go there and he doesn't come back with you, you're putting him in more danger, not less. If anyone finds out he's a mutant, he honestly believes they'll kill him." 

"We can't force him to come here, Bobby," Xavier answered calmly. 

"But." Bobby sighed. "Can't we do something about the anti-mutant group, then? I mean, they're doing bad stuff and--" 

"Did Ronny tell you of any specific crimes the group has committed?" 

"Well, no, but--" 

"We can't attack them unprovoked." Xavier rolled out from behind his desk and to Bobby, who was sitting across form the desk. He put his hand on Bobby's shoulder. "I understand why you're upset. The X-Men and I strive for _peace_ between mutants and humans above all else. If Ronny's group has done nothing to harm any mutant, then we cannot attack them unprovoked. This is a key principle of our organization, Bobby, and it sometimes leads us to difficult decisions." 

"What if they kill my brother? Will that be enough?" 

Xavier was silent, his lips pressed together, for a long moment. "Keep in contact with him. If there's any sign of trouble, tell me." 

Bobby nodded slowly. 

"Now, go to class." 

Bobby left Xavier's office feeling worse than he had when he'd gone in. He trusted Xavier's opinion, but he had no idea how he was going to keep in contact with Ronny after their last conversation. 

"Bobby!" Kitty shouted from down the hall, breaking through Bobby's thoughts. She jogged down to him. "Hey. You're back!" 

"Yeah." 

She was still trying to catch her breath while she walked next to him toward their class. "What were you doing with Xavier?" 

"Getting the work I missed," Bobby said. He hated lying, but if he told Kitty anything it would spread like wildfire. 

"Ohhh." Kitty went quiet, but continued walking beside him. Bobby looked at her with a raised eyebrow. 

"Okay, what is it?" 

Kitty looked at him, eyes wide. "What's what?" 

"You have something on your mind. I can tell." 

"I thought Xavier was the telepath," she said, sulking playfully. Then, her expression grew more serious. "Did you and Marie break up?" 

Someone was laughing somewhere and it filtered down the hall, bouncing off the walls. 

"Not that I know of," Bobby answered. 

"Oh. 'Cause I'd heard stuff. Not from Marie, just. From sources." 

Bobby shrugged. "Stay tuned. I know as much as you do. If not less." 

"Are you guys having problems?" 

"I don't know." 

Kitty frowned. "That means yes." 

Bobby shrugged again and opened the door for Kitty as they reached class. "Like I said, stay tuned for the exciting conclusion to tonight's episode. I can't tell you anything, because I don't know anything." 

"You don't know anything? So much for cheating off you on the Physics test." 

Bobby grinned. The expression seemed to lift his spirits. He could hug Kitty for making him smile, but instead, he sat at his desk and pulled out his notebook and pencil to take notes on Ms. Munroe's lecture. 

Jubilee and Marie came in just before Ms. Munroe began, so Bobby couldn't speak to them when they sat on the other side of Kitty. He watched the side of her face as she situated herself. She didn't look back at him. Maybe they _had_ broken up and Bobby just hadn't noticed. 

He tried to pay attention in his classes--he'd already missed too much--but his mind was on lunch. He always ate with Marie and her group of friends outside at one of the picnic tables. If he could draw her aside and talk to her, apologize for the night before, maybe they could put whatever this was behind them. He didn't want to have trouble with her, not with everything else going on. 

When his last class let out (Ethics. Marie had Pre-Cal for this period.) he grabbed something from the kitchen and hurried out toward their picnic table. His long, quick strides slowed to a stop when the table came into view. 

Remy was there. Sitting next to Marie. She was laughing. 

Kitty seemed to be the only one who noticed him right off. She bit her lip and looked away. Bobby thought of turning right back around and eating inside, but he found himself approaching the picnic table anyway. 

"Hey Bobby," Jubilee said too loudly. Marie jerked her head around to see him. Bobby wasn't sure if the expression on her face was surprise or guilt. He couldn't quite think of a reason that she'd be _surprised_ though. 

"Hey," Bobby said, and he sat down across from Marie and Remy. 

"I 'ope I didn't take your seat, Mssr. Drake." 

"No problem," Bobby said with a forced smile. Yeah, the guy was nice enough. Bobby shouldn't be rude to him. "We don't really have seats anyway. We just sit wherever." 

"Remy just came by to tell us about the new class he's going to be teaching," Jubilee said. "Sounds awesome. It's like, superphysics. But more interesting. Because Remy's teaching it!" 

"I am teaching it with Mr. Summers. It is more his class than mine," Remy said. He wasn't quite smiling, but the area around his eyes was crinkled. "He is much more knowledgably than Remy, I can guarantee that." 

"It'll be great," Marie said, moving the leaves of her salad around aimlessly with her fork. 

Bobby tilted his head slightly. "Thought you didn't like Physics." 

Marie looked at him, her expression unreadable. 

"It's not just physics," Jubilee said quickly. "It's like, a mixture of stuff that'll be helpful to us, no matter what our power is, right?" 

Remy nodded. The crinkles around his eyes were gone. Maybe he could sense the tension. "That's the plan." He stood up. "I hate to eat and run, but I have to be going." 

"Aw, that's too bad," Jubilee said. 

Marie was looking up at him. "We'll see you later." 

Remy smiled down at Marie. She smiled back. Bobby looked down at his food until Remy had left. 

"Can I talk to you?" Bobby asked. 

Marie speared a lettuce leaf and dipped it in her dressing. "Go on." 

"Somewhere else?" 

Kitty and Jubilee exchanged glances nervously, but Marie was nonplussed. "Why?" 

"I just want to." 

"We could go," Kitty said. She stood, tugging at Jubilee to stand with her. "I'm done anyway." 

"I'm done too," Marie said. "We can talk later, Bobby. I want to study a little before class." She walked back toward the mansion with Kitty and Jubilee in tow. Bobby stayed with his food and ate. He didn't feel particularly hungry, but it seemed like the thing to do. 

* * *

The late-December break saw many students leave the mansion to spend time with their parents during the holidays. Marie and Bobby didn't go, of course. They spent holiday breaks together. There had been talk of the two of them going with Kitty to Illinois, but that had fallen through without anyone noticing it. Kitty left by herself on the twelfth, Jubilee left on the twentieth. By the twenty-third, only three or four students were still around, but most of the teaching staff remained. The mansion was their home, after all. And most of them didn't have families to go home to. 

Marie dominated the holiday plans. No matter what was happening, she found a way to whip up some holiday spirit. Even after Jean had died almost a year ago, she'd helped bring them out of the funk a few months later with a huge outdoor Fourth of July barbecue with Jubilee providing the fireworks. Bobby remembered watching her that night in the bursts of colorful light and thinking about how lucky he was. Maybe he should have told her that, but he just held her hand and watched her. 

Now, he was watching her decorate the rec room with holiday decorations. Most of them were Christmasy, but there was a healthy mix. "Just so everyone feels right at home," she'd said. 

They hadn't spoken much lately, but they didn't recognize an argument between them either. Sometimes she'd come to his room, but Bobby didn't say anything that was on his mind. 

"Bobby, help me with the tree, would you, Sugar?" 

Bobby glanced around to make sure no one was around to hear her calling him by that cringe-worthy nickname. Yeah, secretly, he liked it, but John had always made fun of him for it. 

But, of course, no one was around. Especially not John. 

He got up from the couch and joined her at the foot of the tree. She was digging through a box of ornaments. Less than half of them had been there before Marie had come to the school, but her first Christmas, Marie had raided every dollar store and online shop she could find and filled the box right to the brim with little santas and reindeers and nutcrackers and things. Each one was crumpled up in a section of newspaper. Marie was picking out the ones wrapped in funnies first, so she could read them once she got the ornament out. 

"You be careful, now. There's some breakable in there." 

"I'm being careful. I'm not the one reading more than unpacking." 

Marie crumpled up the paper she was reading and pitched it at him. It bounced off his forehead. "There. Now see what you went and made me do. I was right in the middle of Garfield too." 

"Don't worry. All you missed was a lasagna joke. Or Odie falling off a table." 

She stuck out her tongue, but she couldn't keep from grinning. Damn, she was really on her game during the holidays. It was like when they'd first started calling each other girlfriend and boyfriend. She dug through the box again, and pulled something out. Her face brightened even more. 

"Mistletoe! I found the mistletoe!" She shook the paper off the fake plastic mistletoe she'd gotten from a grocery store last year and went over to the entrance of the rec room. She reached up toward it. "Com'ere. I'm too short." 

Bobby sighed, pretending to be quite put out by the whole ordeal, and went to help her. "I can't reach it either, you know." 

"Well, pick me up then. Whatcha waiting for?" 

Marie smiled at him as he approached her and made a whooping sound when he lifted her up by her legs. "You better not drop me!" 

"You aren't that heavy." 

"You save those compliments for after Christmas dinner, when I'll need 'em." She attached the mistletoe over the door with a strip of scotch tape. "Now lemme down." 

He lowered her back to the ground, but stayed close. She turned around to face him. "Well, lookit that. We're under the mistletoe." 

Bobby grinned, then bowed to give her a quick kiss. He had the timing down perfect by now, but it was always hard to pull away again. "It's nice having you all to myself," he whispered. 

"Aw, what do you mean?" 

"I don't know." He pushed a strand of hair out of her face. "No Jubilee. No Kitty. Not as much Remy..." 

Marie's smile faded, and she pushed away, heading back toward the ornaments. 

"What?" Bobby followed after her. "What?" He repeated. 

She swung back around to face him. "You always do this. You always do this jealous thing which you must think is really cute, but it just ruins everything." 

"I was just saying..." 

"Like when I was excited about Logan coming back, you had to play alpha male with him. Then, when that new kid Josh was starting to be my friend, you had to scare him off. Now, he won't even look at me! And now this Remy infatuation." 

"Yours or mine?" 

Marie's face went white, then red. "Dammit, Bobby, why don't you trust me?" 

"Because," Bobby said vehemently. Then he pulled his emotions back and lowered his voice. "Because, it feels like you're losing interest in me, and I don't know what to do about it." 

"I'm... I'm what?" Marie let out a frustrated breath. "I'm not losing interest in you, that's ridiculous. You're the one who acts like he's settling for someone like me. Actin' all put out and shit whenever you can't touch me. How do you think that feels?" 

"I'm not _settling_. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. You're imagining things." 

Marie put her hands on her hips. "You're the one imagining things. Sometimes I think you only stay with me so no other guy can come near me." 

"What sense does that make?" 

"I don't know. You tell me!" 

Bobby felt a little breathless at the lack of logic coming out of Marie's mouth. He shook his head. "Marie. I'm not imagining things with you and Remy. And if I'm jealous, it's because I love you and you're throwing yourself at another guy." 

"Throwing myself?" Marie threw up her hands and headed for the door. "Throwing myself. How could I throw myself at anyone?" 

"Don't leave," Bobby said quietly. Maybe Marie didn't hear him, because in a moment, she was gone. 

* * *

Bobby didn't see Marie again until Christmas Eve. She showed up at his door with a Santa hat on her head. 

"We're all opening one of our presents up at midnight, so we're having a little party before that in the rec room. I thought you might wanna come." 

Bobby stood silently in the doorway, looking at her. She sighed. 

"Come on, Bobby. It's Christmas Eve. All arguments from the last year get nixed on Christmas Eve, didn't you know that?" 

"I didn't." 

"Now you do." 

He sighed and opened his mouth to speak, but she tugged at his forearm. "Come on, please? I forgive you, now it's your turn." 

"All right," he said. "All right, I forgive you back." 

She tugged on him again, and he let her pull him into the hallway. "Now, I look adorable in this hat, and you always look adorable, so we need to go downstairs and adorable the place up. How's that?" 

Bobby managed a smile and let her lead him downstairs to the rec room. 

Ms. Monroe and Professor Xavier were with the two younger kids who didn't have anywhere to go for Christmas. They were watching the old claymation Rudolph in Hi-Def. Remy and Logan were hovering by the pool table, talking more than playing. Mr. Summers was sitting near the tree in the little loveseat by the window sipping on hot cocoa. Marie hurried over to the floor by the television, pulling Bobby after her. They ate caramel popcorn and watched five more Christmas cartoons until midnight. 

"Everyone to the tree!" Marie announced. The two younger kids bolted for the tree and started sifting through the presents for the one they most wanted to open before the real Christmas morning. The adults stayed back, watching the children. Bobby, for his part, stood up from his spot by the TV and sat by Mr. Summers. 

"Okay," Marie said, grinning. "For all you _old people_ who won't be fun and undignified, I'll hand out presents. I've got the Santa hat after all." She began to dig under the tree with the kids. The phone by TV sofa rang. Ms. Monroe went to answer it, wondering aloud who would be calling at such an hour. 

Marie picked up a small package and skipped over to Bobby, handing it to him. "This one's from me, so you've got to open it now." 

"Bobby," Ms. Monroe said. He looked at her. Her expression was odd. "Your mother's on the phone." 

Bobby frowned. "Um. I'll open this in a minute, Marie. Hand out the other stuff." He wandered over to the phone, not waiting for a response from Marie. 

"Mom?" he said, once he had the phone in his hand. He moved to the hallway with it, so the others wouldn't hear. 

"Bobby." His mother's voice was hoarse. 

"Mom, what is it?" 

"It's your little brother, Bobby." 

Bobby heard something brush against the receiver and a muffled sound. 

"Mom, tell me what's going on." 

She didn't say it with any inflection, just: "He's dead, Bobby." 

He blinked. "Did they kill him?" came out of his mouth before he could think. 

Again, there was a muffled sound. 

"N-no one killed him. He had a heart problem. We though he just had a bug, but it was something wrong with his heart. By the time we got to the hospital..." 

Bobby tried to swallow, but his throat was too tight, so he coughed. "I'm coming home." 

"No," she said immediately. "No, Bobby. I think it would just make things worse." 

"What? When's his funeral? I need to be there, Mom." 

"No, Bobby. I'm asking you not to come. I just... I thought you should know. I'm sorry I called the school, but you weren't answering your cell phone." 

"It's back in my room." He paused. His head hurt. "Mom, let me come home." 

"Bobby," she said firmly. "Don't." 

Someone in the rec room laughed. Bobby pressed his back against the wall. He wasn't sure he could stand up by himself. 

"Okay," he said, and he turned the phone off. 

* * *

Two hours after Bobby had left the rec room, Marie found the phone on the floor in the hallway. First, she went to her room and threw her Santa hat on her bed. Then, she stood there, feeling silly at her own reaction for a good five minutes. Then, she went back down the rec room, got Bobby's gift, and ran upstairs to his room. 

She had to knock three times before Bobby finally answered. 

"You disappeared," she said. Something was strange about his expression, but she couldn't put her finger on it. She just stood awkwardly in the doorway holding his present while he stood across from her, blocking her entrance into his room. 

"Sorry." 

She held the box out to him. "You want your present?" 

"Okay." He took it and held it. 

"Uh. Can I come in?" 

Bobby stood silently for a moment, then finally drew away. She went into his room, feeling the strange urge to tiptoe. Bobby didn't share his room anymore. It wasn't like she'd wake anyone up. 

"So..." she said. "Did you have it out with your mom or something?" 

"Something," Bobby answered. He sat at the edge of his bed. His present was in his lap. 

"Want to talk about it?" 

"No." 

Marie pulled out Bobby's desk chair and sat. She picked at her fingernails, trying to think of something to say. The only thing she could think of was stupid, but she blurted it out anyway. "Am I still your girlfriend?" 

Bobby blinked, but he didn't look at her. His eyes were focused on the bed across from him. The one John used to sleep in. 

"You tell me," he said. 

She slumped her shoulders. "I don't know what to tell you. I mean, for the last... I don't know how long. For a while. Maybe since Remy came here or maybe before that. It's like we've had this big misunderstanding about something or some_things_, and we're always mad at each other. I don't know where it's going anymore." 

"I didn't know where it was going to begin with," Bobby said. 

Marie sighed. She went to him and sat next to him on his bed. "Let's just stop being angry." 

"Okay." 

She looked up at him. "Could you hold me for a minute?" 

He looked back at her, then he nodded slowly. He put his arms around her and she leaned against his chest. She could feel his heart beating and the amplified sound of Bobby drawing a sharp breath into his lungs. His muscles were strung so tense that she was worried something might pop. She slid her hand around to his back and rubbed at it. 

"I'm sorry she ruined Christmas for you," Marie whispered. "You didn't deserve that." 

She felt him swallow. "Yeah." 

They sat together in silence for a long time, and she fell asleep there, against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. 

When she woke up, he was gone. 

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**Dislcaimer: **Marvel's, bitches.  
**Fandom:** X-men. Movie-verse (after X2).  
**Title:** A New Brotherhood: After Everything Else (Part One)  
**Author:** Dorothy  
**Rating:** PG13  
**Summary:** John experiences the other side.  
**Additional Notes:** Feedback is good.

**A New Brotherhood  
_After Everything Else_**

John checked his watch for the sixteenth time. He hoped it always wouldn't be like this, this constant, never-ending waiting and wondering. But Mystique had basically said that Patience Was A Virtue and considering that he was technically on the same side as she was, he was far too new to argue. So John had waited in the hotel for her, minute after minute, hour after hour, wondering and waiting rather impatiently. And where was Magneto during all this? John didn't know.

The first day of his new life was the most shocking for two reasons. As soon as John heard the hotel door open, he rushed to ask what the _heck_ was going on. Then, he stopped, blinked, and backed away as the hallway maid stared guardedly back at him. What was she doing here? The room didn't need to be made. Then her skin melted away and Mystique stood in her place, silent and watchful. John would never get used to her power, he knew. He never liked Mystique, and he also knew he probably couldn't trust her either. John didn't know what was going on and he had joined because, really, _he wanted to know_. If it was going to be the same as Xavier's, then what was the point of joining Magneto in the first place?

He flicked his lighter nervously. "So, uh, what's going on?"

She had this way of making him feel anxious. Mystique had swayed her hips as he passed him and headed straight to the liquor bottles, not bothering to answer. He followed her, but kept his distance.

"Where's Magneto?" He asked.

Her yellow eyes slid into focus as she studied him. Her silence made his heart beat slightly faster and made his palms feel slightly moist. She might be better, strong, more experienced, but he wasn't going to be a pussy in front of her either.

But he looked away as she sat, her blue legs folding together nicely.

"Do I have stick around here all day?" He asked her finally. "'Cause I really want to do something." She continued to watch him and he flicked his lighter again, a familiar heat rising up his neck. "_Hello?_ Can you hear me?"

She closed her eyes, as if exasperated. Then she took a sip of her beverage. "We will stay here for a few days until I can get us something better." He bristled, feeling as if he was being spoken to like a child. "Magneto is getting his children."

John came closer, just slightly, and tilted his head. "Magneto has children?"

Her eyes slowly opened. "Yes." She paused, the glass nearly touching her lips. "I will be gone early tomorrow. Do what you will." She stood and headed toward the bedroom, where she slept. "But be back by ten tomorrow evening." She barely glanced at him as she slid the half-empty glass along the counter, closing the door tightly behind her. John glanced at his own makeshift bed – a measly couch with an extra blanket and pillow Mystique had thrown at him late last night. He sighed, flicked his lighter, and shivered as a gust of cold air blew on him.

This, John silently fumed, wasn't what he wanted.

The second day was better, however. Mystique had done what she promised and John had the luxury and the permission to do what he pleased – and he did just that, but best of all: There were no classes. There was no _Professor_. He blinked. There was _no_ _Professor_. And then he grinned, widely. He had to admit, though, to himself, that this was rather exciting. This whole freedom thing was _awesome_. Who cared about school? Who cared about the Professor? He was _free_, and living with Magneto was going to be his liberating factor. John was going to show him that he was serious - he was serious about being a mutant. He was serious about not hiding anymore. He was serious about his power. He was serious about so many, many things and he couldn't wait to show Magneto.

But first, he had to eat. No one could impress someone else with an empty stomach.

There was no food, and that was what he needed more than anything. He woke up at eleven that morning, which was fairly unusual after a night of tossing and turning, and saw twenty dollars by the television. He took that as a sign and swiped it, glad to know that Mystique had _some_ kind of heart – that, or Magneto had told her to leave him some cash.

"Ah, fuck." He muttered to himself. He wished he brought some clothes. He couldn't wear what he was wearing _forever_. He looked at the twenty dollar bill. Clothes. What could he buy with twenty dollars?

Underwear was his top priority. John glanced at some snacks displayed beside the television. He could always eat that for dinner and spend money on brunch/lunch and use ten bucks on underwear. McDonalds had that dollar menu, didn't they? John grinned to himself, mentally patting himself on the back.

He set out with that in mind. He made sure to lock the hotel room and kept his lighter clutched tightly in his hand.

First, he went to McDonalds and bought seven dollars worth of food – all from the dollar menu. He paid, sneering when tax was included. He was never good in math and had completely forgotten about tax. He could steal later, if needed to be. He grabbed his package and squinted once he set out into the cold sunlight; would New York ever stop being cold?

His next stop was Wal-Mart. As he stood right in front of the building, he felt his heart become heavy. He hated Wal-Mart… but he couldn't remember why. As he entered, he munched on a cheeseburger, idly passing the lady who was giving children stickers. He couldn't ever remember a time when he was a child getting one of those, but, of course, he was never privileged as a child. Even for a stupid Wal-Mart sticker.

John glanced down the underwear aisle, looking for the cheapest buy. They had washers and dryers at the hotel, didn't they? At this rate, he'd be washing and drying that same pair of underwear he was wearing for fuck who knows how long. He stopped when he saw something on sale and swiped it, wondering if he could possibly hide it in his McDonald paper bag. No. Probably in his jacket, though. He glanced around casually, senses heightened. He didn't see any security cameras. He snorted; Wal-Mart was probably too cheap to get security cameras. Nevertheless, he looked around anxiously and mentally crossed his fingers, hoping for the best.

Slowly, he slipped it into his jacket, securing it with his hand. He waited for the police, the sirens to scream – but none came. Exhaling loudly, John he took the last bite of his hamburger and reached in the McDonald bag for another, letting his eyes wander. He headed for the Men's Clothing section and watched three girls giggle over something in the greeting cards isle. He wondered what his friends were doing right that second.

Friends. Were they still his friends now? Magneto seemed to be in opposition with Xavier. Did that make Bobby and Marie his enemies? The thought clenched his insides, making him grimace. He couldn't imagine either of them as his 'enemies'. He surely hoped that Magneto wasn't picturing him firing fireballs or streams of flames toward either of them or at any of the kids at Xavier's.

He frowned, passing shirts on sale. Without moving to look under the pile, he tried to find a hint of black within the stack. None. Red? None. He scowled at the choices and strolled in the section, hoping that there was _something_ he could wear. As he passed a mirror, his eyes caught hold of his reflection – he did a double take at once, staring at himself in the mirror. He looked _exhausted_. And, he thought grimly, he had a five o'clock shadow. But not only did he look tired, he _felt_ tired. He sighed, heavily, and tore his gaze away.

John finished his second hamburger and looked inside his McDonald bag for the apple pie; he eyed it critically, but finally took it out and started to nibble on the edge. His eyes caught hold of something, however, and he walked backwards a few steps in order to view it properly.

That shirt would do. He took it, checking the price, and sighed when he realized he couldn't steal this one too – it would be too obvious. But it would do – it would fit his figure nicely, in any case. He returned to the mirror, placed the food bag on the floor, and held it up to his chest. Yeah, he thought tiredly, it would do.

As he headed toward the cash register, his mind wandered to Marie and Bobby. Did they miss him? He paid for the shirt, underwear tightly secured at his side. A nagging weight kept on repeating, _No, they didn't_. As he left with his heart grave, he finally remembered the reason why he never liked Wal-Mart.

It reminded him of things he didn't want to remember.

The third day, though, was a surprise. He awoke to find Mystique staring at him. He glanced at the digital clock and propped himself up on his elbow, sleep still controlling him. She remained still, eyes never wavering. He shuddered and reached for a new shirt, avoiding her eyes.

"Whassit?" he muttered, yawning. When John glanced up, her yellow eyes narrowed as he ran his hands through his hair, yawning once more.

"Get dressed." She said rather crossly. "We're leaving." Mystique glanced at his pile of clothes, messily piled under yesterday's McDonald bag. "Bring your belongings." She glided past him, standing by the closed door. He stretched, combed back his hair with his fingers, grabbed everything he owned and followed her at a respectable distance.

As they stepped into the elevator, John glanced at her. "Aren't you going to change?"

She tilted his head back some, not bothering to glance at him. "Yes."

He tapped his foot and looked around. John opened his mouth, but he closed it right after he saw her feet start to morph. His heart fluttered violently as her hands followed suit and her hair changed from a bright orange to a lovely, straight blond; the elevator dinged loudly. A plump, short man with a hat came in and ignored John, eying Mystique. He leaned over heavily to press a button, his grunting and largeness making John wince.

John asked weakly, "Where're we going?"

Mystique glanced at him, her bright yellow eyes changing into blue.

"To Magneto's." She purred.

When Pyro first stepped into Magneto's operation room, he felt a rush of cold air against his skin. Why was that always happening to him? He shivered, pulling his leather jacket tighter around his body. Mystique glided swiftly past him, having already changed back to her original, bright blue self and had settled herself on a leather couch. John followed her and sat in the other one, his hands in his pockets. She watched him in silence.

"Ah, Pyro." John glanced over his shoulder as a metal door slid to reveal Magneto clad in that rather ridiculous helmet. John wisely kept his opinion to himself. He stood, feeling it rather rude to sit. He glanced at Mystique as she did the same.

"Please," Magneto began, almost warmly, "Sit." John sat back down, but Mystique remained upright. She crossed over to Magneto quickly and leaned in, whispering something in his ear. He nodded and she changed quickly into Senator Kelly, walking promptly out of the door they entered in. John blinked. Senator Kelly?

John flicked his lighter anxiously, watching Mystique's back.

"Tell me, Pyro," Magneto drawled after a long moment of silence, "Do you regret leaving Xavier's?"

John furrowed his eyebrows. Was that a trick question? "No?" He looked at Magneto. "I mean, why should I?"

Magneto barely nodded. "You remind me of myself when I was younger, you know." John looked at him closely, straining to hear. "A little impulsive." A thoughtful pause. "Quite willing to find yourself…" The older man trailed off and then looked at John, lips pressed together.

"I found myself eventually, with the hindrance of homo-sapiens." John blinked. "And I found out it was a cruel world out there. Mutant Killers, I like to call them – these homo-sapiens – don't take warmly to us, you understand?"

John nodded, agreeing. He opened his mouth but closed it when Magneto continued. "You will find yourself too, I imagine. Probably here."

John shifted in surprised when his lighter floated out of his hands. Magneto outstretched his arm and lightly took the lighter between his thumb and fingers, studying it as if he were studying John himself. John chest swelled with pride when Magneto smiled and flicked the lighter, revealing a bright, strong, glowing flame.

"When did you find out you could control fire?"

John scratched the back of his head. "I don't quite remember when, exactly, but after we moved to the States." He nodded, memories gradually coming back. "Mom was cooking a fire in the back and I sneezed. The trailer next to us caught on fire." He looked up to see Magneto watching him carefully. He looked away, to the ground, anywhere. "There was panic everywhere, but I couldn't help but think how _cool_ it was. I thought it was me at first, it probably was, but I didn't mean it. I was playing with matches the next day when my mom was looking for a job. I just wanted to see if it was me… you know, if I set the vehicle on fire, right? I concentrated and the grass caught on fire. Like-," He moved his hands. "I pointed to the right and fire streamed from the match and burned the grass." He grinned up at Magneto. "That's when I realized I could control fire. I kept matches by my side until I got a lighter – which was like, a month later."

Magneto nodded, his eyes twinkling. John breathed, out of breath, and gladly accepted his lighter back when Magneto gently placed it in his hand. Then the older man turned away, his back slightly tense.

"I apologize for the past few days." Magneto looked over his shoulder. "Mystique is currently trying to find a suitable townhouse that will accommodate us. We will have to pose as a family." Magneto looked out of a wide, black window. "It is a daunting process. Tomorrow, you will meet Pietro and Wanda. There is a room close to the entrance where you will spend the night. The day after tomorrow, we will move."

John nodded, taking this all in. He stood, feeling his right leg falling asleep. He shook it slightly, casually, hoping Magneto wouldn't notice. Magneto slowly turned around and John leaned against the arm of the couch in hopes to stay upright.

"Mystique will come back tonight with a bag of clothes for you. I do apologize for the delay."

John shrugged, feeling the numbness start to dissipate. "Uh, it's fine, you don't have to apologize." He grimaced. "Er." He paused, thinking quickly. "Thanks for taking me in, though." He added, hoping that would make an impression. Magneto nodded, and John felt that it did.

"Your current belongings are in the third room from the entrance. It is the only door that has a handle. You will sleep there for tonight. There is no television, but it's late anyway." John glanced from Magneto's pendulum to the metal clock hanging dangerously in mid-air. When had it become ten thirty?

John flicked his lighter. "Thanks." He cleared his throat, slightly limping to the door. "Uh, night." John glanced around and frowned when Magneto's eyes were fastened on him.

He shivered, but this time, it wasn't from the cold.

When he awoke the next morning, a black bag next to his head caught his eye. He propped himself up on his elbow and took in his surroundings. It was a small room, but the couch was comfier than the hotel's. He yawned, reaching over to see what was in the duffle bag.

_Clothes_. John sighed gratefully. He pulled out everything and placed them on the coffee table; he separated the underwear, the shirts and the pants – and the socks. He grinned widely when he found out they were all his sizes too. _Awesome_, he thought. John suddenly felt giddy, which was rare in the last two days.

There was a gentle knock on the door. John, blinking, stood. "Uh, come in?"

A young lady, barely twenty, stepped in. She smiled, which was something John seldom saw these days and brushed her hair away from her face. She wasn't exceptionally pretty, but her features were soft and delicate.

"They sent me to get you." She twined hair around her forefinger. "Do you want some breakfast?"

John felt his insides squirm as she looked at him. He put down his belongings but took his lighter, placing it in his pocket. She looked unsure as he approached, so he cleared his throat and stopped.

"Yeah, so, who're you?"

"Wanda. You're John, right?"

Wanda. His head buzzed. "Yeah. Pyro. Whatever."

She held open the door for him. He waited as she walked by him.

"Aren't you Magneto's kid?" John asked, catching up to her.

"Yes." She smiled demurely. John saw a flash of bright, white teeth and he grinned to himself.

"Yeah, cool. Don't you have a brother or something? Peter?"

Wanda giggled. "Pietro. Yes, he's asleep. When he runs out of energy, he sleeps to recharge. He'll get groggy if he doesn't recharge fully, and that's never good."

Recharge? John frowned. Pietro sounded like a battery. But he shook the thought away from his head and he tilted it upwards, smelling food. Wanda seemed to notice his behavior and giggled again, placing a hand over her mouth as if to hide it. He chuckled quietly.

"So, you're a mutant then?" Nice, John.

"Well, I try to be," came her soft reply. Before John could ask what she meant, they stepped into another room. He let her enter first, however, and was surprised to see that no one else was around. Where were Magneto and Mystique? Wanda seemed to sense his inquiry and spoke. "Magneto is busy and Mystique always leaves early in the morning… do you want some toast? Or eggs?"

He faced her. "Uh, whatever, toast is fine."

As he sat down on a metal stool, he watched her.

"What did you mean that you try to be? So you're not or what?"

The toaster clattered on the counter. John thought he heard her curse, but that could've just been his imagination. He watched her move clumsily before he finally stood up, moving around the island counter to help her.

"I am a mutant." Wanda said. Then she looked at him as he began getting his breakfast ware set up. He moved closer to her, and he thought he felt her shiver. "But my power…" she whispered when he was close enough, "It's just hard to control."

He watched her duck head, placing bread into the toaster. Then she rubbed her arms as a stream of air blew against them.

John never had that problem, so he couldn't exactly say he understood. Instead, he cleared his throat and slipped off his jacket. "Here. You look cold." Which she did, in any case, and besides – she was cute and this would definitely get him brownie points. He grinned when she seemed surprised.

"Thanks." She whispered. Their eyes locked for a moment. Then he helped her put the jacket on and when the toaster popped, he spoke.

"So, tell me about yourself." He began casually, "Considering that we're going to be living together for who knows how long." He glanced at her, watching her lips part to speak.

"Wanda."

John watched Wanda stiffen.

When he turned around, he blinked in surprise as a boy, probably a little younger than himself, stared back at him with identical eyes as Magneto. And the _face – _John had to look away to cease from staring. He took a considerable step back and nodded his greeting.

"Pyro. John. Whatever. You're Pie-Pietro, is it?" John raised an eyebrow. Beside him, Wanda quickly moved to another counter, preparing, what he hoped, was his breakfast.

"Yeah. Pietro." Pietro glanced at Wanda and frowned, deeply. "What the hell are you wearing?" John turned to look, but then blinked when he realized Pietro was talking about his jacket.

"I'm wearing John's jacket. It's cold in here." John strained to hear, taking a step in between them. Then he felt Pietro's eyes boring into his head. John took one last look at Wanda's back and then slowly began to walk away, watching Pietro curiously. The boy had moved onto watching his sister.

"That jacket won't do." John refrained from rolling his eyes and instead, turned around so that neither of them could see his face. Then he felt a rush of wind and by the time he turned back, Pietro was holding a bigger and heavier jacket. John turned around, hearing the door shut.

"Hey, how'd you do that?" Where'd that jacket come from?

"Wouldn't _you_ like to know." Pietro replied, sending John a smug look. John watched as Wanda looked between them, until finally, she shed John's jacket and slipped into Pietro's. Without looking at John, she nodded at Pietro and turned back to fixing his breakfast.

Seeming satisfied, Pietro held out John's jacket. "Here. She doesn't need it."

John inhaled deeply, a deep frown forming on his features. And he thought that HE was a jerk. "Yeah." He paused, rolling his eyes. "Thanks."

Wanda turned around and scooped two already made eggs onto John's plate. John watched Pietro eyeing it critically before the other boy took a seat next to him. He suppressed the urge to throw the food in his face.

"So." John looked up to see Pietro staring at him. "Who're you?"

"Call me John or Pyro, I already told you that before." He started to cut up his eggs and picked up some toast. John looked up and nodded, though, when Wanda placed some orange juice in front of him.

Pietro made an impatient sound beside him and waved his hands. "That's not what I meant – I mean, what's your _power_? Pyro sounds gay."

"Pietro!" Wanda stared. She looked at John apologetically. "And he's just asking that because he wants to show off his." Beside him, Pietro grinned.

"Fire. I can control fire." Never mind that he couldn't _start_ it, but hey, manipulating it was probably the next best thing; if only he was immune to it – then he'd be a walking disaster. Wanda smiled as she made another breakfast plate, probably for herself.

"That's really cool." She said, but once again, Pietro scoffed. John felt a wave of agitation every time he looked at the other boy – the only thing that wasn't stopping him from burning his head was the fact that these two were Magneto's _children_. And if he had to live with them, well, then he would try his best to get along… even if that meant he had to spend one second with Pietro.

John spoke before looking at Pietro. "Yeah? And what's yours, then? Being a jerk-off?"

Pietro laughed. Loudly. John glanced at Wanda and his brows furrowed when he saw her look away. If he didn't know better –

But his thoughts ripped away once he consciously realized that his fingers were gripping nothing but thin air. He glanced around for his toast – but his gaze stationed at Pietro's fingers. But the boy was across the kitchen, leaning against another counter. The Magneto-look-a-like took a bite of John's toast, shaking it tauntingly in the air.

"Good toast, Wanda. How about making your favorite person some?"

Wanda put a plate on the table, which supported three eggs and three pieces of toast for her brother. She, with a napkin, took one of Pietro's toasts and passed it to John. "I just did." When John glanced at her, she smiled at him. But the smile was gone as she turned around, cleaning the counters.

John fumed silently, but took the bread without comment. He glared at the other boy. "So, you're a teleporter?" John remembered the blue guy on the plane – Kurt? - and shook the thought of the X-Men away from his head.

Pietro was already at his seat before John had a chance to blink. The boy shook his head and passed a piece of toast to his sister. She smiled and took it.

"Nah, faster than that. _Dude_, I'm the fucking fastest person on this earth, that's what." Pietro took a bite of toast. His sister moved to sit beside John, but, curiously enough, Pietro had something else in mind. John watched as Pietro stood and steered his sister to sit beside _him_ – but Wanda didn't seem to mind. In fact, it seemed as if she was used to it. But John looked away when Pietro caught him staring.

There was a silence. Finally, with the last bite of his eggs, John cleared his throat. "So." He looked at Wanda instead of Pietro. "What's your power again?"

"Breaking things." Pietro said, laughing when Wanda shoved him playfully. "Making things explode, you know, the usual." Wanda blushed scarlet. For some reason or another, it made John's heart race.

"I… um. It's kind of difficult to explain…"

John grinned, leaning forward to see her better. "It's not as if I have anywhere else to go." Was he flirting? Pietro exhaled loudly beside him.

"I like to say it increases the chances of things happening..." Wanda trailed off, scrunching her nose. "It's kind of like… if I was cooking and I wanted to make the eggs cook faster – I'd make the plate hotter…" she trailed off again, looking at Pietro for support.

Her brother nodded, and then grinned widely at her. "It's a lame power, but I still love her." She rolled her eyes, but John noticed that a faint flush came to her pale cheeks.

_Damn_, he thought. _This girl is cute_.

John heard the door open and all three of them turned to look. A blond, much older woman stared back at them. Pietro whistled loudly – and John couldn't blame him – the woman _was_ good looking. Tall. Blonde. Blue-eyed. And a lot of cleavage – just what he liked.

"Lookin' good." Pietro smirked. "And what do we owe the plea-,"

"Get ready. We're leaving." The blonde woman suddenly morphed into a blue monster with orange hair. "We have to go now." The soft, seductive voice faded into Mystique's raspy one. John suppressed a grimace.

Pietro tilted his head and chewed slowly. He had a lot of nerve. "Why?"

"Use your brain." Mystique changed back into her previous skin, eying her boss' son critically. Then she turned on her heel and exited the room. John's insides clenched.

"Damn." Pietro whistled again. Then he stood and popped the last bit of toast in his mouth. "Wanda, go and pack your things. Mine'll be finished by the time you get to your room." Wanda took a bite of toast and wiped her mouth with her napkin, glancing at John. She smiled before taking off, casting a look at Pietro that John couldn't quite decipher. He looked at the younger boy, and then stood.

But Pietro was already in front of him. Blinking and taking a step back, John stepped off to the side but Pietro just followed him steadily.

"I've seen the way you look at my sister, dude." John raised an eyebrow. "Don't even think about it. She's not going to waste her time on someone like you."

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Move, will you?"

Pietro stepped to the side, eying John intensely. He felt the hairs at the back of his neck stand, and he stood at the door, scowling at Pietro. The boy hardly was something to worry about. And with that last thought in mind, John turned on his heel and went to pack for what hopefully was the last time.

John woke up, sweating profusely. His hair stuck to his face and his boxers stuck to his legs. He swallowed heavily before propping himself up on his elbow, trying to breathe evenly. The room spun around him; the bed soaked up his sweat. He blinked and glanced at his watch, trying to figure out the time. Eight Twenty.

He knew it wouldn't be long until he had a nightmare. Groaning because he knew he couldn't go back to sleep, he slowly swung his legs over the bed and raked a hand through his wet hair, exhaling.

He had to stop thinking of Bobby and Marie. He _had_ to stop dreaming of Xavier's. It was madness to continue and it wasn't like he wasn't feeling guilty because really, a part of him really, really was.

John sighed. His throat felt dry.

He stood, stretching. He walked out of his room quietly, mindful of the stairs that led to the first floor. When he entered the kitchen, he walked to the fridge and took out some bottled water they had purchased earlier that day.

"Hello."

He turned around and blinked. Waiting by the door was Wanda – John's eyes bulged – in a rather skimpy nightdress. Where did she come from? He didn't even hear her. John turned away, though, so he couldn't be caught staring. He nodded his greeting and started to rummage through the fridge.

Wanda's body squeezed behind him. When he looked out from the corner of his eye, he saw that Wanda was leaning against the wall, her brown eyes trained on his body. He swallowed when she moved closer and touched his hip with the tip of her fingers.

"You're rather undressed." She said. His breath hitched when she stroked his hipbone. Nodding, he took a step back to watch her take another step towards him.

"Yeah, so are you. Uh." John asked breathily. She stood in front of him, biting her lower lip. "What are you doing?"

"I'm seducing you, of course." And before John had a chance to protest, her lips were pressed against his jaw. The nearness of her body was astounding. He reached behind him and fumbled to put the water bottle on a solid surface, a hand on her shoulder. Her body pressed against his and he shifted to where he was sure she could feel _exactly_ how well she was doing with the seducing bit.

She giggled before her lips attached to the corner of his mouth. Both of his hands found her shoulders, but before he could gently push her away, her scarlet lips were pressed insistently against his. His senses doubled, tripled even. John closed his eyes and before he knew it, his hands were in her hair – twining and tugging and petting –

He pulled away violently, breathing hard. She stared back at him, ready to run – or strike, John he didn't know. He straightened and grabbed his water bottle, taking quick steps backward. His chest was slick with sweat once again, his lips throbbing from her kiss.

"Uh, this is a bit weird." He cleared his throat. She smiled, though, and walked towards him with a slight sway in her hips. John knew what he had to do. He stopped her with his hand, a frown on his features.

"Look, I barely know you and I'm sure we're going to be living here for a while and uh, although you're really good looking, uh, this is just a little weird for me." His mind drifted to Pietro and he shook his head, forcing the boy out of his thoughts. He took another step back, his hand still outstretched.

"It's just going to be a one night thing. I'll pretend it didn't even happen. We never have to tell anyone," She whispered. The strap of her nightdress started to slip from her shoulders and he simply watched it, swallowing.

Then he recomposed himself. John frowned. This _surely_ wasn't the shy girl he was talking to days previous. It couldn't be. It just couldn't –

"Look, no, all right?" John gestured the distance between them with his hand, still quite breathless. She didn't speak. He stood there, watching her closely. Wanda seemed to be watching him.

Then, after a moment, she straightened, finally seeming to understand that he was serious, and that he wasn't going to budge. She didn't seem happy. He nodded, gave her one last look over, then turned on his heel and ran to his room, locking the door loudly.

He avoided getting out of his room for the rest of the day. A few times, someone knocked on his door but he simply didn't answer it. John peeked out once, though, just to see if the coast was clear, and it was, at the time he looked, but that wasn't enough to make him get out of there. But he knew he had to have something to eat and soon – because, really, the last thing he wanted to do was die by starvation.

John avoided looking at anyone when he walked down the stairs, fully clothed this time. He went into the kitchen and only glanced up when something on his right jerked; he looked up, coming face to face with Pietro. The boy smirked.

"Where were you all day? I already searched this pathetic community and its fucking dogs."

John glanced around. When he didn't see Wanda, he didn't say anything. "I was sleeping. Felt sick."

He sat at the table. Pietro watched him.

"Huh." Pietro glanced at the clock. "Fuck, where is she?"

"Who?" John muttered. He reached for the paper, pretending to be interested in it. What would Pietro say if he knew his sister had tried to seduce him earlier? He didn't want to think about it – it unsettled him heavily.

"Wanda, you dumbass." Pietro blew some hair out of his eyes, glancing at the door. "I'm starving. Mystique told her to go shopping today but she's taking too long." Pietro started to pace around the kitchen, glancing at the clock every few seconds. John watched from over his paper.

They both turned when the main door clicked. Pyro glanced to where Pietro was but the boy wasn't there. Frowning, John stood, but Pietro had returned with brown bags and had started to go through all the groceries.

"Every mutant for himself." John heard Pietro mutter. John walked over, but glanced at Wanda when she entered the kitchen. She smiled at him, brushing some hair behind her ear. Whatever feelings he had for her a few days ago – they were gone, thanks to that morning. He returned her silent greeting with a short nod of his head and moved away, letting Pietro be the man in the middle.

"I knocked on your door earlier," Wanda spoke, looking at John, "to see, you know, if you wanted to come with me to the groceries."

Pietro's head immediately shot up. "Why the hell didn't you ask me?"

"Because you weren't here." She frowned, and then turned her gaze back to John. Wanda moved closer, her smile getting bigger. "You didn't leave a list, so I just got something I thought you might like."

Wanda turned to the bags, rummaging through them. John was just hungry enough to take a step closer. She was acting like nothing had happened.

"I was… sleeping." He said, by way of explanation. Pietro, previously on his right, had moved to the table and was working on finishing three sandwiches. John returned his gaze to Wanda, his attention on her face.

She didn't act like there was something going on – to her, probably there wasn't. Wanda was acting like nothing happened at all. John's brows furrowed. But, of course, maybe she could just be a great actress. Well, whatever it was, he was going to lock his door at night and wear whatever he could around the house.

"I got pizza." She started placing things in the fridge. John watched her move, but moved when she squeezed to retrieve more things. "And – well, fruits. Milk. Um. Butter. Bread. Ham?" She looked at him.

John nodded in approval. He moved around her, finally starting to make his sandwich. Pietro, the bastard, had already been through the ham. When he glanced at the other boy, though, John watched him.

Pietro was watching his sister. John looked away before either of them caught him. This, he figured, was something he probably didn't want to know about.

The rest of the day passed by in a blur – mostly thanks to Pietro. The boy had pestered both Wanda and John to join him on his never-ending search for entertainment and John, although he'd rather sleep, had grudgingly agreed to come along. He kept his distance from Wanda, however, but pretended not to acknowledge anything out of the ordinary. Wanda, though, seemed to be doing the same.

Her indifference confused John, for a while, but he decided not to dwell on it.

That night, however, he locked his door and the one that was adjoining into the bathroom. John breathed. He had made sure to get some bottle water too, just in case he was awoken by another horrible dream.

He started thinking.

Was it really worth coming here? Living like this? Living with these people? Would it be worth it all? Would it be worth it in a year? In ten? _Decades_ from now?

John didn't know.

But he would give his new life a chance.

For the next few months, John had learned to be observant. There wasn't anything else to do, but John slowly had started to notice things.

**January**. He had always lived a certain way and now, to be living with Mystique, Magneto, Pietro and Wanda, he suddenly felt … like he was part of a group that actually _agreed_ with each other. He didn't want to take his chances saying it, but, _it felt like a family_. The actual unity of dedication was foreign to him. There were no immature kids running around. There was no one asking him questions. And, really, Magneto, John noticed, seemed to care. Magneto asked him how he was doing, what he was thinking - Magneto never talked much about his plans in front of Pietro and Wanda, but John realized that his mouth had become loose whenever John walked in the room whether it was on accident, or purposely.

Magneto had always smiled, too.

**February**. John hated February for a lot of reasons that he never spoke of. There were too many hearts and too many red and pinks and whites that he hated. Valentines was over-commercialized and exaggerated. But on the 14th of February, Wanda had made everyone a Valentine's card – Pietro's, of course, being the biggest and reddest. Pietro had stuffed his in his pocket and John kept his card taped on his closet door and looked at it every morning before he dragged himself out from bed. It, truthfully, actually made his mornings a little nicer.

John also noticed that no one called him John any longer. Pyro. That was his name now.

And he started to take it on as an endearment.

**March**. Pyro loved the fact that no one bothered him. He loved the fact that he was the oldest out of his peers. He now had time to think of things he wanted to. He now had time to do whatever he pleased. Wanda listened to him and Pietro challenged him respectfully – that is, as respectfully as Pietro could get.

"Where're you going?" Pyro looked up from the morning paper. The passing blur stopped and Pietro raised his eyebrow, looking at him.

"My grocery duty today dickface," Pietro rolled his eyes, "I'll be back soon."

Pyro heard the door bang and the keys turning the lock. He returned to what he was reading. Pyro turned the page of his paper and his eyes caught the word _mutants_. Senator Kelly was on the third page speaking of Mutant Rights and America's Promise of Peace and Equality.

Pyro's brows furrowed. When was the last time he saw Mystique? She was never around anymore, and Mystique and Magneto had always returned back to the townhouse at horrific hours in the morning. Pyro never questioned either individual when he passed them some coffee and they never said anything when they took it.

There were civil disturbances all around the country. Was that what Mystique and Magneto were taking care of?

John cleared his mind when Wanda's red shirt caught his attention. He folded the paper and watched her.

She asked, "Where's Pietro?"

"Groceries." He replied shortly.

"It was my duty today." Wanda's brow creased and Pyro stood. Flicking his zippo, he headed to the fridge to see the list of who-does-what-on-what-days and searched for Pietro's name. But it was Wanda's day to do the groceries.

"Well, let him get it." He looked at her, "Gives him something to do."

Her eyes dropped and Pyro felt a peach pit of sympathy, for one reason or another. She really did depend on her brother, he had noticed. He shrugged, flicking his lighter again. "Want to play Mario Kart?" Wanda's eyes shot up and a smile spread across her face. Pyro had to bite his lower lip from laughing.

"Okay." She said, already heading toward the television. Pyro followed her and glanced at the clock. Fifteen minutes had passed, but there was no sign of Pietro.

**April**. Pyro didn't smoke that much but when he did, it was usually only one cigarette a day. A week, maybe, if things were looking up. But that day, he had smoked five. He could practically feel his lungs filling up with that black stuff you saw on the television, but he couldn't quite put his stick down.

He hated remembering but he did it anyway.

It was April and April was always one of his favorite months beside August (which was when his birthday was) and Christmas (which was, well, when he got presents and got to eat turkey and cranberry and all those delicious other things).

April was officially his definition of spring.

In April, that's when you first saw the green sprouting out from the earth. April was when everyone else was coughing and hacking because they had allergies and he didn't and he got to watch them, snickering behind his hand. April was when the trees started to bloom and when the weather was on the cool. He didn't like the cold, but April he could tolerate. April was when he didn't have to wear his old jacket and when he could stare outside his window at the morning showers.

April was the first time when Bobby and Marie urged him to swim in the pool, assuring him that they'd save him if he started drowning.

But Bobby and Marie weren't there anymore. When Pyro thought about it, he guessed they were swimming in the pool right now, or, Marie would be lounging on the chair with Jubilee and Kitty and Bobby would be looking at her in that small bikini that Pyro always thought looked far too revealing on her. She was far too dangerous to be showing so much appealing skin for Bobby. And the suit was ugly, but he wasn't going to remember that or the way Bobby thought it was perfect.

Pyro hated remembering, but he wasn't going to blame April for it.

**May**. It was hot and heavy and with all those bodies grinding against him and lips against his ear, he didn't know how people managed to stay on the dance floor and not to fuck each other senseless. How long had it been since he had been so aroused?

He couldn't remember because it never happened like this.

Magneto and Mystique weren't going to be there for the week. Pietro and Wanda had said they were going to the movies that night and when Wanda had asked him to come, Pietro's gaze of doom was enough to tell him that it wasn't going to be worth it. He simply wasn't patient enough for Pietro. He had declined politely and told them he had better things to do – like that girl who was bending over in front of him with her ass against his crotch and that guy (was it a guy?) behind him that was breathing heavily into his ear.

He closed his eyes and listened to the music, happy to know that he could do anything – anything – he wanted to do. Fire danced above his head and he suddenly felt worshipped.

Hands touched him and sweat slid down his back and his hair clung to his face; someone touched his hip and he wondered if his thinking was going to far because if he didn't know any better, those hands felt like ice and no, they couldn't belong to Bobby.

He inhaled and managed to glance over his shoulder. It wasn't even a boy. The woman kissed him and he exhaled, bringing her closer.

This, he decided, simply couldn't get better.

**June. July. August**. Pyro never spoke to Mystique willingly and she didn't engage in conversation with him either. Pietro and Wanda, on the other hand, seemed indifferent of her constant presence. If Pyro didn't know any better, then he thought Mystique – well – that Mystique was lonely.

But that couldn't be the case because Mystique could technically get along with everybody because she had a million identities and at _least_ one of them was something she could make good use of.

He never talked to her and he also had never seen Pietro or Wanda speak to her either. Magneto, of course, was out of the picture because he was _always_ busy for reasons he didn't discuss and with Magneto always absent, Mystique had to talk to someone, didn't she? Pyro took a step back from that challenge.

The next day, Pyro had lifted an eyebrow when he saw Mystique waiting for them by the door with a blue towel to match her scales. Pietro, Wanda and Pyro had gone there every day since the weather had turned out for the good; Pyro knew he was going to get a great tan and that even Pietro couldn't say no to the coolness of the water or the skimpy bikinis everyone seemed to wear in the summer months. Mystique had watched them leave the first day, but on the second and third and fourth and every single day after that, she had morphed into a pretty young thing, twenty, twenty-one, and had looked Pietro up and down with a raised eyebrow when he practically drooled on her huge assets.

Pyro laughed and saw a twinkle in Mystique's blue eyes when she turned to him. She shrunk them, though, much to Pietro's dismay.

Pyro settled back against the white lounge chair under the shade. Mystique had moved to the other end of the pool area, away from the three of them and Pyro laughed, again, when several men nearly tripped over their own two feet when she swayed her hips or turned to lie on her stomach. Maybe there was more to Mystique than Pyro thought.

He turned when he heard Pietro's loud laugh and Wanda's screams of mirth. He watched them silently. How old were they? Eighteen? Nineteen? Somewhere along those lines – he forgot.

Wanda turned in his direction and squirmed in her brother's grasp. They were on the edge of the pool and the lifeguard wasn't paying attention. Typical. Pyro narrowed his eyes, though, when Pietro's hand moved against her thigh and against her stomach – Pyro turned away, swallowing. No, they couldn't be – could they? He had never had any brothers or sisters, but weren't their actions a little… incestuous?

He turned back to watch them. Pietro had his mouth against her ear and was whispering something. Wanda laughed, throwing her hair back, before shoving him away and therefore falling into the pool. Pietro laughed triumphantly with both hands on his hips, water dripping down his body.

Pyro watched him. He watched them.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood and he felt eyes on his face.

When he looked around, Mystique's blue eyes were gone and her yellow eyes shifted between Pietro and Wanda and then back at him. Then they were blue again and Pyro didn't quite know what happened.

**September**. Pyro trudged down the stairs at eleven that night, feeling the lazy September evening settle on his shoulders. Like the last few months, Magneto had arrived at ungodly hours in the morning and the twins, more specifically, Pietro, had been … absent. Wanda asked Pyro every day where Pietro was and Pyro was getting a little tired of playing Mario Kart with her while they waited for him. He suspected Wanda was getting tired as well. They got along well, however. Wanda liked the fact that Pyro had a good sense of what colors to coordinate and the fact that he took care of his laundry.

He stopped thinking, though, when he heard a noise in the kitchen. He peeked around the door and saw Pietro fixing some food at normal speed. Pyro frowned.

"Wanda's sleeping -,"

"I know." Pietro turned to face him and Pyro's frown deepened. There was a slow, lagging feeling to Pietro's movements, but Pyro hated to point that out because that meant he was being observant and therefore, paying attention to the jerk.

"Right then." He opened the fridge bent to steal a water bottle, aware that Pietro crept behind him. When he straightened, he felt the other boy near his back.

"I didn't know you swung this way, man." Pietro smelled like something Pyro couldn't quite pinpoint. He smelled like fire. Ah, wait –

Pyro turned to face him. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Pietro simply leaned against the island counter, his gray eyes fastened on Pyro's brown ones. "What do you think I'm talking about, dickface?" He drawled. Pietro didn't drawl.

But before Pyro knew it, a hand was creeping up his stomach. He looked down to see Pietro's hand touching him, sliding up, pausing by his collarbone, and then, finally, touching the hair at the back of his neck. He was so close. Pyro watched him soundlessly and Pietro didn't seem like he wanted to stop. There was a glint in the boy's eyes that John had never, _ever_ seen before.

"Get your fucking hands off me, man."

Pietro paused. A smirk. "Or what?" The boy stepped closer.

Pyro grasped his wrist, digging his nails into it. Then he pulled Pietro forward sharply, and kissed him.

Pietro's lips were cold and demanding and Pyro's hand ran through his hair, gripping the back of his head. He arched against him and then made sure his hip was rubbing against the boy's pelvis.

Pyro had it planned out perfectly, actually. In a moment, he would shove the boy away. He would sneer, hiss, and then lean forward so that his mouth was pressed against Pietro's ear. Then, he would say, '_Or I'll kill you_.' And he had every intention of following that through.

What he didn't expect, though, was the sound of keys clinking noisily in the area of the front door. Pietro jerked away from him.

But it wasn't Pietro.

It was Mystique. Her blue scales were radiant in the dim light and Pyro was _staring_ at her – he was staring at her obvious womanly curves and her red hair and her scales. He was staring at Mystique. She morphed her wrist so that it was small enough to escape his grasp and took several steps back, assuming a casual position against the counter. Pyro exhaled loudly, the kiss still on his lips, and leaned back shakily against the counter for support.

Magneto appeared; his white hair and light eyes eyed Pyro warily but without negativity. He turned to Mystique and smiled.

"My dear," he said, taking a step forward, "I believe that all our hard work is finally going to pay off." He took her scaly, reptilian hand and bent, kissing it. She smiled and rose to him; Magneto gently received her. They whispered something to each other and Pyro looked away.

"Hopefully Mystique wasn't keeping you up all night." There was a smile on Magneto's lips when Pyro glanced up.

Pyroglanced at her. She was smiling, the stupid bitch. "Oh, trust me," he drawled, forcing a smirk to his lips, "She wasn't."

Her smile was gone in the next moment. Magneto looked between them, but otherwise, didn't comment. It took him a moment to respond, as if he were calculating something. He nodded his head, his eyes glancing back at Pyro. His lips quirked. "Get some sleep." There was a long, long pause. "We'll see you tomorrow, I suppose." Another long pause. "Have a good night."

He tilted his head, and then walked away magnificently.

Mystique was still looking at Pyro. Magneto called for her.

And then, she followed.

**October**. Pyro thought it was Magneto who put her up to it, but then he figured that it was just Mystique by her lonesome. Magneto liked his games, but Pyro doubted he cared about this. Pyro knew that because of all the months that he lived with him.

Mystique was constantly by Pyro's side; for someone that looked so cold blooded, every time she had stood so near, he could practically feel her body heat. Thankfully, Wanda had refused to leave Pyro by himself (mostly because Pietro was never around) and in that, Mystique had kept her distance. Pyro was thankful that she at least had limits when it came to Magneto's children – whether it was for her own blue skin or personal preference.

Now that Pyro thought about it, it was probably Mystique who had advanced at him as Wanda. He frowned.

There were subtle hints here and there too. Mystique, one morning, whether teasingly or for Magneto's purposes, had morphed into a rather attractive blond gentleman in a gray business suit. Pyro had kept a considerable amount of space between them, making coffee as far away from her as possible. He could feel her eyes watching him over the morning paper.

When he turned around, they stared at each other for a long time, silent. He would _not_ let his guard down. He sipped his coffee and she turned the pages. Then Magneto came, watched them without a word, and cleared his throat with one silver eyebrow raised. Then both of them were gone, leaving Pyro glancing at the back of the blond gentleman's head. And his back.

It was a fact, and probably an obvious one, that Pyro had never liked the blue-morphing monster. Magneto never made any comment but it was also obvious that it amused him. For Pyro, she was too evil and the thought of her messing with his mind made him uneasy. So he avoided her when possible and locked his door at night.

But the day before Halloween, Pyro smoked a little more, woke up too early and ate too little. Watching little kids run up and down the streets with masks and capes and swords and weapons made Pyro realize that he actually _knew_ people who had to wear figurative masks and had weapons that were built in their bodies.

Maybe Magneto was right.

Maybe Magneto and John were actually very similar.

The older man had looked at his daughter with narrowed eyes when she asked to place a pumpkin outside of their townhouse. Pyro watched as Magneto shook his head curtly and Wanda never asked again.

On Halloween, Mystique was in her reptilian form when Pyro had entered the living room that late afternoon. Outside the window, little kids ran past with their parents trailing after them and Pyro turned to Mystique when she smiled wickedly at him.

He raised an eyebrow, honestly undisturbed. Someone made a noise behind him, and Pyro turned to see Wanda. Pyro watched, wordlessly, as Mystique stood and then changed into a child, perhaps ten or eleven, with poorly drawn blue scales wrapping around her arms and legs. Mystique's costume was ironically herself. She was clothed, thankfully, and was holding a plastic pumpkin, seemingly for treats.

Wanda giggled and held out her hand for the child. Mystique passed him and took it, yellow eyes shifting into the brightest blue Pyro had ever seen.

And for a second, they reminded him of a boy he once knew back at Xavier's. His chest tightened as John closed his eyes.

Wanda spoke. Her voice cleared his thoughts. "Mystique and I are going to get some candy, we'll be back later. Pietro's waiting for us outside. D'you want to come?" She smoothed down her jeans and Mystique tilted her head up.

Pyro looked at the child. He looked at Wanda.

"No thanks." He waved his hand and then moved toward the couch. "I have better things to do." He slid into the seat and his hands felt around for the remote, willing them away silently.

"We'll be back later, then. We'll bring you back something to eat." Pyro nodded as they started to move away. The door behind him closed and keys turned, but Pyro was staring at the black screen, sullen. He flicked his lighter.

There was something about Halloween that made Pyro disheartened. He looked to the side where they exited, remembering the way Mystique held onto Wanda's hand. Or was it the way Wanda held onto Mystique's?

Maybe Mystique had something Pyro didn't quite see. Maybe only Wanda saw it and sometimes, maybe even Pietro. Maybe Magneto saw it, which was why she smiled at him the way she did, or slid stealthily and quietly into his room at night.

Pyro didn't like Mystique.

But he had learned something this Halloween.

**November**. Pyro didn't know how long he stared at Bobby, Marie and Jubilee. It was the day after Thanksgiving and Wanda had somehow convinced Mystique to brave the crowds at the mall, and somehow, had gotten Pyro to come along.

At that moment, Pyro was rooted to the spot, hands clenching Wanda's bag. They were there, backs turned, but Pyro could never forget Marie's white bangs and Bobby's shaped back.

"Who's that?" Wanda took her bags from Pyro's hand, fingers lightly brushing his knuckles. He looked at her for a moment before he looked around for Mystique – and then he realized that maybe, just maybe, that _was_ Mystique. She was Wanda's twin brother for the day, after all, since Pietro had better things to do. The boy had a lot of better things to do these days.

Pyro cleared his throat. "It's not important, is it?"

"You've been staring at them for three minutes." Pyro looked back down at her. Wanda's eyes flashed yellow, and Pyro looked back toward them.

"Where's Wanda?" He asked.

"Bathroom." Mystique glanced toward the small group and then back at Pyro. "What are you thinking?"

"Nothing." He sneered. But he was still looking at them.

Jubilee had cut her hair. It was a small bob that shaped her face; it suited her height and Pyro couldn't help but admire the job. She was wearing that yellow jacket that John always hated because it made everything seem far too perky and he hated that kind of perky, especially since Jubilee always seemed to be perky in the morning.

Marie had stayed the same for the most part. The white part of her hair was still noticeable from a distance and there were black gloves that were covering her dangerous hands. She seemed different, but Pyro couldn't exactly place his finger on it.

And lastly, Bobby… he hadn't changed at all. He looked older, maybe, but maybe it was just an optical illusion because Pyro hadn't seen him in a long, long time. Or maybe it was his mind playing tricks on him. Bobby's hair was the same length. His shoulders were still broad. Pyro's eyes traveled downward, fully aware of Mystique's eyes on his face. Bobby was smiling slightly, and John missed that.

How long had it been? How long had he stared? Pyro didn't know. His chest felt tight, and he had to look away.

"I think that's enough shopping for today." Mystique said when Wanda returned. She had stayed by his side during the whole scene. John turned around to face them so that his back was facing the people he once knew. He didn't know them anymore, after all.

"Yeah." He said. Pyro flicked his lighter – once, twice, three times.

Took one last look at Bobby.

Stood up a little straighter.

And walked away a little mightier.

**December**. Pyro never liked the cold or anything to do with it, and that included Mystique too. Perhaps he had said it too often. Perhaps he had expressed his animosity too loudly. Regardless, the week before Christmas, she was there. In his room. Watching him enter.

He closed the door to prove his indifference. _Damn it_, why was she looking at him like that?

"Can I help you?" He asked her, studying his nails.

"I wanted to talk, actually."

Talk? Pyro didn't glance up and focused on his cuticles. She shifted on his bed and crossed her legs, looking at him.

"He thinks very highly of you, you realize." Mystique said in her low, raspy voice. "He has told me on several occasions that he's glad you joined us in your quest to find yourself." Her yellow eyes were blank as she looked at him.

Pyro took out his lighter. "Tell him I appreciate the sentiments."

When Pyro finally looked at her, he couldn't help but feel a little uneasy at the fact that she was there, in his room, on his bed – being 'civil'. Her blueness reminded him of the depressing, cold weather outside that he never liked to indulge in. But maybe it was just her, and not her appearance.

"Do you know what we are?"

Pyro gave her a look. "Mutant terrorists." Mystique opened her mouth to speak and Pyro stopped her with his hand. "And you're asking me that nearly a _year_ after I've lived with you guys? You have to give me more credit, man."

Mystique's lips quirked, "Making sure. I told Magneto that you saw your old … friends last month. He has asked me to make sure you understand what we are doing. What we stand for. If there are any regrets."

Pyro laughed. He flicked his lighter and a fire emerged. He summoned it to his other palm, letting a ball of flame dance inches above his hand. "There are none." None at all, he added silently. He looked at her when she shifted again.

"There is one more thing." She looked at him under her lashes.

"Shoot." Pyro flicked his lighter.

"Do not think I did those things for you." Pyro tilted his head upwards; the way she said it made him realize what, exactly, she was talking about. The seductions. He laughed in spite of himself and shrugged his shoulders.

"I didn't think so."

"I can be anyone you want me to be, however."

Was that a come-on? It certainly wasn't begging – that would be far too low for her and it was illogical. She could have anyone she wanted, really. Pyro laughed again and offered her a genuine smile, which she returned, seemingly sincere as well.

"I know. I have particular tastes, however."

After those words escaped his mouth, she stood slowly, her blue legs stretching out gracefully. She, slowly from head to toe, transformed into Pietro and put a beautiful smile on his face. It was a smile Pyro seldom saw, mostly because Pietro rarely smiled at all. Pyro nodded appraisingly, but otherwise, was silent.

"I don't want that." He couldn't help but smirk.

"Who would?" Pietro's eyes, controlled by Mystique, glanced in the general direction of the wall. Pyro thought of Wanda, but his mind went back to Mystique as she took another step closer, changing into Pyro himself.

"I don't look that bad, actually." He admired himself, tilting his head. His other self smirked, but that smirk was quickly changed into Jubilee's smirk. He blinked.

"No – no way in hell, man."

"Figured." Mystique purred. She, then, changed into Marie. She walked towards him now and parted her lips and Pyro's chest tightened when she stood beside him. He could – he could feel her body heat. Pyro had always had sensitivity to heat because it was part of the package deal.

"You can touch this, you know." she whispered. It sounded like Marie. He swallowed, because it definitely looked like her. Mystique only moved closer and pressed her face into John's jaw at an excruciating slow speed. Was this what Marie was supposed to feel like? John had to close his eyes so that he wouldn't look at her. He was too afraid that Mystique would change into someone else without his readiness.

But he knew what he wanted. And it wasn't Marie.

Just one name – that's all he had to say. But he couldn't. His lips parted to speak, but his throat was too dry. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, and his eyes remained closed.

Mystique, in Marie's body, moved closer and pressed her front against his front. Oh god. She was nuzzling his face and he swallowed one last time.

"I don't want that either." He gradually opened his eyes. Her nose touched his jaw, and he kept his face close to her cheek. He whispered in her ear. His whole body felt on fire and he knew what fire was, of course, and he didn't know why, but, he said it. "Try again."

He didn't close her eyes as Marie disappeared. He was so close to the other person that his eyes moved upward. His hands were grasping the lighter with such force that he knew it would leave a dent in his palm.

Bobby looked at him. His eyes were that remarkable blue that John had always liked. His hair was short and his lips were parted and his shoulders and his proximity –

"Yeah." Pyro laughed despite the unfunny circumstances. He grinned.

Bobby – Mystique – was still looking at him. Pyro felt Bobby's hand on his shoulder and he was just so _near_ and so – so – so _Bobby_ that Pyro had to look away. It wasn't Bobby. It was Mystique. But this was far too real.

"It's been a while, John."

Pyro looked at Bobby sharply. "No." Bobby blinked. "If you want something, Mystique-," he said very slowly and very quietly because the walls were very, very thin, "-then you're not going to fucking mess with my head, is that clear?"

Bobby's lips quirked and his hand returned to his side. He didn't move back, though. "Acceptable." It was Mystique's voice.

Pyro nodded and reached behind him, locking the door. Once wouldn't hurt. He was stronger than people gave him credit for. As long as he knew it was Mystique all along.

He leaned forward.

Just as long as he knew it was Mystique.

He pressed his lips against Bobby's.

Just as long as he knew it was Mystique.

And kissed him.

Just as long as he knew it was Mystique.

Pyro had to give Mystique credit for making Bobby's lips so very, very soft. He expected Bobby to be warm, truthfully, but this Bobby's lips were cold. And perfect. Pyro felt arms wrap around him and cold hands slipping into his shirt, sliding up his chest, palms pressing against his nipples and Bobby's tongue sliding slickly against his own. He was on _fire_.

It seemed as if gravity had relocated itself. He felt his body move toward the bed.

And forgot all about Mystique.

Pyro watched Mystique on Christmas morning. It had been a week since he had seen her. Her legs were crossed under the kitchen table and she was sipping her coffee leisurely, eyes trained on the paper. He wasn't surprised that Magneto wasn't around – well, actually, he was considering it was Christmas, but Christmas had hit Pyro. Hard.

There were no kids running around. Powers were in control. It was very, very quiet.

And the lack of mass spirit boggled him.

Mystique looked up at him, catching him looking at her. Before he could turn away to look at something else, he blinked at what she did. She raised an eyebrow, but there was a smile on her lips which Pyro had never seen before. It was a smug smile. And it was directed at him.

Pyro heard a noise and jerked his eyes away from her. He looked in the direction of the stairs when Wanda came bounding down it. As she passed him, she pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead before heading to the kitchen. Pietro followed quickly after her, scowling at him.

The three mutants were talking about something or other. Mystique laughed jovially, whether it was because of Christmas or because Pietro had said something hilarious (which Pyro doubted), and Pyro frowned deeply.

Her smug smile was still in Pyro's mind. What was she playing at? To make him feel _inferior_, like he had lost? Pyro fumed silently, watching as her lips moved to speak and moved to frown and moved to laugh. Pyro had lost, hadn't he? No. He directed his gaze somewhere else, fixing it on the television set.

He should have known Mystique was in it for something else. And that something else, no matter how much he was grateful for it at the time, was something he was always going to regret.

He had gotten a new lighter that morning, most likely in the courtesy of Magneto. Late Christmas gift, he suspected. He bounded up to his room before stealthily slipping in, eying his new specimen with incredible care. It was a nice piece, he told himself. Someone went through a lot of trouble to get him this.

He shivered a bit, unable to control the goose bumps spreading along his arms. He eyed the vent, but there was no air coming out of it. So he flicked his lighter, watching the flame dance in front of his eyes.

"Shouldn't play with fire, John." The flame was blown out by a gust composed of an icy cold pressure.

John fumbled with the lighter, dropping it to the ground. He quickly glanced up.

Bobby was looking at him, a curious expression on his face. John's heart raced at how Mystique made him look so real.

"Get the fuck outta here. I told you, it isn't that funny anymore." He straightened, sneering. Did Mystique think she could just _ask_ for his company so intimately again? Did she just think she could waltz right in there? John gritted his teeth. "It was funny the first time," he hissed, "but now it's just downright pathetic."

But then he stopped. Mystique could only change her appearance and her voice.

His fire had been blown out by a cold, icy breath.

It wasn't Mystique he was facing. Her magic could only go so far.

And then, realization hit.


End file.
